The thing that followed me home

I work late nights at a gas station off a quiet highway. It’s the kind of place where you barely see a soul after midnight, except for the occasional trucker or lost traveler.

Last night, though… last night was different.

Because something followed me home.

1:37 AM – THE CUSTOMER

I was behind the counter, scrolling through my phone, when I heard the bell ring.

A man walked in.

At first, I thought he was just another late-night drifter—tall, thin, wearing a long, tattered coat. His face was mostly hidden under the shadow of a hoodie.

He moved strangely, though. Not like a normal person. His steps were too slow, too deliberate, like he was trying to move like a human but couldn’t quite get it right.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. Just walked straight to the back of the store, disappearing behind the shelves.

I waited for him to come to the counter, but after five minutes, he never did.

So I checked the cameras.

He wasn’t there.

The screen showed empty aisles, every shelf in view. No sign of him.

But I knew he hadn’t left. The bell never rang again.

My heart pounded. I grabbed the baseball bat we kept under the counter and stepped out from behind the register.

The store was silent.

I checked every aisle, every corner.

Nothing.

Then I heard it.

A whisper.

It came from behind me, low and breathy, like someone was standing right at my ear.

“Let me in.”

I spun around—but no one was there.

I didn’t even lock up. I just grabbed my keys and ran to my car.

2:15 AM – THE ROAD HOME

I drove fast. Too fast.

The roads were empty, nothing but the stretch of black asphalt and the glow of my headlights.

But then—

My radio crackled.

At first, I thought it was static. Then I heard it.

A voice.

That same whisper from the store.

“Let me in.”

Chills ran down my spine. My fingers tightened around the wheel.

I turned the radio off.

The whisper didn’t stop.

It was coming from the back seat.

2:24 AM – HOME

I didn’t look in the mirror. I didn’t check.

I just slammed the gas and tore down my street.

I jumped out of the car the second I reached my driveway, sprinting to my front door. My hands fumbled with the keys, shaking too hard to fit them into the lock.

Then—

I heard the car door open behind me.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Something had gotten out.

I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t.

I shoved the key in, twisted the lock, and threw myself inside, slamming the door shut behind me.

I stood there, panting, my forehead pressed against the wood.

Silence.

Then—

A knock.

Just one. Soft. Almost… playful.

I stayed frozen.

Another knock.

Then, the whisper.

“You let me follow you home.”

I ran to my bedroom, locking the door.

I didn’t sleep. I didn’t move. I just listened, the whole night, as something scraped its nails against my window.

5:47 AM – IT'S NOT OVER

The sun came up eventually.

And the whispers stopped.

I told myself I imagined it. I told myself it was stress, exhaustion, paranoia.

But this morning, when I went outside…

My car door was still open.

And on the window, written in the dust, was a single word:

TONIGHT.